


Wednesdays

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: AU, F/M, diiiirty, post-escape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Sara has a gift for Michael when he returns home from work.Lovely, smutty one-shot. Co-write with the lovely Jess as Sara.





	Wednesdays

Wednesdays were not to Michael's liking. The middle of the working week, where the day had neither signified the end of the first half of the week, or the beginning of the second half. Michael could definitely say he hated it. As for traffic, Wednesdays were the worst. Everybody, from executives to bus drivers, ended their day at five and cluttered the roads with their huge off roaders, bicycles and scooters. Nearly and hour after he had begun his journey home, Michael arrived and let his heavy body slump against the wall of the elevator as it climbed the side of the building to the fourth floor.

It was Sara's first Wednesday off in as long as she could remember. Probably since she wasn't working at all. The free clinic had just hired a new doctor, per Sara's request at wanting more time off, and it was his first day flying solo. She had talked to Michael at lunch and he had been snappy, sounding frustrated and annoyed. She had decided to make him his favourite dinner, and had just taken it out of the oven. She examined herself once more in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair, and opened the chest drawer, grabbing a lighter and moving to light the candles on their dining room table.

Michael sighed as he walked along the corridor to their apartment, the magnolia coloured walls harbouring his shadow each time he walked past a semi circular up lighter that decorated the halls. Michael found their door, apartment number twenty-one and padded his pockets to try and find his keys. He frowned when he could not feel the sharp pointed edges of the keys, or hear the tell tale jingle of them rattling in his pants. All he felt was his cell phone and his car key and he concluded his jacket was not hiding the keys. Michael closed his eyes and let his head roll backwards with a sigh. He reached out and tapped the door three times with the shiny brass knocker.

Sara heard the knock on the door, and glanced over to the coffee table, seeing Michael's keys sitting there, glaring up at her. Great, one more thing to put him in a bad mood. She hoped dinner was enough to cheer him up. Fluffing her hair once more, and smoothing out the bottom of her little black dress, she hurried over to the door, glancing in the peephole, then slowly opening it. She smiled at his tired face and opened the door wider, "Good evening, Mr. Scofield."

A smile played across Michael’s lips and he drank in her image. Starting at her feet, his eyes roamed up her smooth, milky legs to her thighs. That's when her little black dress began, short and yet classy with ample bust space to display a nice cleavage. Michael licked his lips before meeting her eyes with a sheepish grin. "I lost my keys," he said apologetically. This would be the third time this month they had changed the locks because he had lost a set of keys. He stepped into the apartment, brushing his hand across the small of her back while he pressed his lips to hers, letting out a content and relaxing sigh.

Sara kissed him back slowly, savouring the moment. She pulled away and rested her forehead against his. "You didn't lose them, Michael. There on the coffee table." She pulled away, moving to help him out of his coat. "Did work get any better today?" Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his neck. He smelled so good.

Michael's eyes darted to the coffee table and his bunch of keys, mocking him from the reflective glass surface. "Oh thank god," he breathed with a laugh. "That saves me getting that grubby lock smith out again," his jaw twitched. The guy was nice enough but hired by their apartment manager and always made a habit of turning up during the day. When he was at work...and Sara was home alone. Michael hated him but he shook off the images of the man shoved into one of his own lock mechanisms out of his mind. "Work was great," he lied with a smile and moved from Sara's embrace to sit on the couch. "Something smells good," he commented, flopping his head back against the cushions, his body heavy and tired and unable to free his feet from his expensive and uncomfortable shoes.

"Don't get too comfortable on the couch," Sara teased, moving back to the kitchen and setting two wine glasses on the table. "I made spaghetti, and my famous garlic toast. I thought maybe you could use a nice, romantic dinner?" She finished lighting the candles and returned to where Michael was sitting. He looked like he could fall asleep. Smiling, she walked over to the CD player, grabbed a CD of soft, classical music and put it in. Walking over to him and leaning down, she gave him a quick kiss. "Feel like joining me for dinner?"

"Mmm Spaghetti," Michael breathed with a smile against her lips. "My favourite," he said proudly, quickly kissing her again. He didn't have the energy to move and his hands remained at his sides, balled loosely on the couch. Sara's rested on his knees, warming his skin through his neatly pressed pants. "Just let me take these shoes off," Michael started, waving a hand dimly into the air beside him. "And I’ll be right with you," he promised but made no move to remove his shoes, letting his eyes flutter closed once more.

"Michael Scofield," Sara lectured in a teasing voice. "You are not allowed to fall asleep before you eat my dinner." She moved to her knees, slowly removing his shoes and moving them to the side. Tilting her head up, she stared at him for a second, a soft smile spreading across her face. He looked so sweet and peaceful sitting there, half-asleep. "Am I going to have to undress you?"

Michael's feet instantly felt cool and as though they were expanding now they were free from the leather confines of his shoes. He chuckled a little and moved his hand to wipe his mouth, forcing his face into a serious expression. "I have to be naked to eat dinner?" he teased, peeling one eye open and glancing down at her with a smirk. "Well I never, Sara Scofield..." he smiled.

Sara moved back up on her knees, pressing herself to his chest. She pressed her smile to his, laughing softly against his mouth. "It takes the mention of nudity to get you awake. What does that say, Michael?"

Michael chuckled against her smile, and he smoothed his fingers down her arm and took her hand in his. "It says, help me up before we don't make it to the table," Michael quirked an eyebrow, leaning forward when she moved off of him and pushing himself to his feet with an exaggerated groan of pain. Michael's hand slipped from Sara's and he watched her move towards the table while he stretched, arching his back and tightening his muscles.

Sara dished their food onto the plates, moving around the kitchen slowly and in time to the soft strands of music that were floating through the house. She turned to the living room, and watched Michael stretch. She couldn't help it, she loved looking at him. She turned back to the food, glancing down as he looked up at caught her staring at him.

Michael tiptoed forwards, still mid stretch and grinned wickedly at Sara who turned from him when she noticed him looking at her. He pressed himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to him while he kissed her neck and inhaled her womanly scent. She was intoxicating and Michael hummed with content. "I might as well be naked the way you look at me all the time," he whispered into her ear before kissing her one last time and moving to take a seat in front of one of the steaming plates of tomato and herb spaghetti. Sara's meal was placed directly next to him and he gripped her wrist lightly, pulling her to sit with him.

Sara adjusted in her seat, smiling over at Michael. She glanced him up and down, and nodded. "Trust me, baby, I wouldn't complain if you were naked all the time." She twirled her spaghetti on her fork, but didn't take a bite. "Your present is in the bedroom."

"No, but the neighbours might," Michael laughed, mirroring her actions and slurping the spaghetti from his fork. He frowned and reached for his napkin, wiping his mouth as he swallowed. "I have a present?" Michael looked at her with a tilted expression before his eyes went wide with realisation. "Oh no, it's Valentine's Day! And I didn't get you anything," he admitted sadly, throwing his body back into his chair. Not only was he has tired as hell from overworking (ex convicts don't get the same privileges as other workers don't you know) but he had forgotten one of the most important days of the year for every couple in the world. Sara's smile troubled him. "Why are you smiling?"

"It's Valentine's Day," Sara confirmed with a small smile. She took another bite, and chewed slowly, watching him watch her. She shrugged. "Can't I just smile? I don't need a present, Michael, I just need you."

Michael twirled some spaghetti up onto his fork and leaned forward across the table on his elbow. He offered Sara his fork full of food, watching it slide off the metallic fork and into her sweet, kissable mouth. "You realise this makes me a lousy partner," Michael told her, watching her chew and swallow with a smile.

"Michael. . ." Sara shook her head. She set her fork down, and leaned into him, pressing her lips gently to his. "You are a lot of things, but a bad partner is not one of them."

"I'm really sorry," Michael said, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind Sara's ear and brushing his thumb over her smile. He pressed his lips to hers again, letting them linger before pulling away and grinning at her like a teenage boy. "So, this present..." he pried not-so-subtly, taking his fork and shovelling another mouthful into his mouth when his stomach growled for food.

"Don't be sorry," Sara told him softly, reaching over and rubbing her thumb down his cheek. She took another bite and shrugged, her smile growing wider. "This is a present we can both enjoy."

"Really?" He quirked an eyebrow at her words. His reply was low and husky, full of intention and eagerness. Michael held another forkful of spaghetti in the air between them. Two ends of the yellowy string dangled over the sides of his fork and he offered her a sly smile. "Have you ever seen Lady and the Tramp?" he grinned.

Sara laughed quietly, glancing from the fork to him and back again. She tilted her head to the side, knowing what he was getting at. "Yeah, when I was about 8 years old."

Michael shuffled his chair closer to her and rested his elbow on the table once more. "So...you know how to eat spaghetti properly then?" he teased, inching the fork closer to her mouth and holding his other hand out flat under the food, in case it fell from the cutlery. Michael sucked one end of the spaghetti into his mouth and began eating it slowly.

Sara smirked and took the other end of the spaghetti into her mouth. She sucked slowly, inching her mouth closer to his. Their lips gently met and she giggled quietly, pulling away and breaking the strand between them. "Always the romantic, aren't you?"

Michael dipped his head with slight embarrassment as she giggled at their antics. "I try," he beamed, placing his fork back onto his plate and wiping his mouth with his napkin once more. "I draw the line at rolling you a meat ball with my nose though," he told her firmly, cupping her delicate hand under his on the tablecloth and smoothing his thumb over her platinum wedding band with a smile.

"Oh, really?" Sara pursed her lips in a fake pout. She stood, and carried her plate to the sink, winking at him. "Because that would have been the most romantic part." She walked back over to the table, looping her arms around Michael's neck and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Sliding her hands slowly into his shirt, she whispered, "However are you going to make up for forgetting Valentine's Day?"

Michael's eyes pressed themselves closed when Sara's tiny, hot hands met his skin and slid over his torso. Her hands were like tiny weapons, burning her touch into his skin and melting his tattoo from his body. Sometimes, have Sara touch him was almost as painful as the process of having his tattoo rendered in the first place, but just like getting a tattoo, her touch came with a rush of adrenaline that was hard to quit. Michael lolled his head backwards and kissed her upside down. "I'm sure I can think of something," he smirked. "So...this present..." Michael said, standing to his feet and walking around the table to head down the hall. "...It's this way right?" he acted dumbly, turning to face her and thumbing over his shoulder.

Sara arched an eyebrow, and followed him down the hall slowly, resting her hand on her hip. She paused, just outside the bedroom door and leaned back against the wall. "Now, Michael. Did I say it was present time yet?"

Michael titled his head back in laughter before closing the gap between them and resting a hand on either side of Sara's head against the wall. "If you did," he breathed, planting a soft kiss to her neck. "I wasn't listening," he planted a kiss to the other side, moving his hand to brush Sara's hair from her silky smooth skin. "But while we are on the subject of giving, you know what I could really do with after a long, hard day at work?" He whispered, pressing his lips to her shoulder, enjoying the taste she left on his mouth.

"Mmm," Sara hooked her fingers into his belt loops, pulling his body flush against hers. She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his lips on her skin. She wondered if his touch would ever stop being electrifying. "What's that, baby?"

"A massage," he smiled, trailing his fingers down her bare arms and lifting her hands to his lips. "These..." he paused, trying to find the right words to describe Sara's dainty fingers. "...I want these all over my body," he grinned. "So what do you say Doc?" he winked, pressing his lips to hers again. "Want to heal me?"

Sara kissed him back, long and deep. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her fingers to the nape of his neck. She darted her tongue out, tangling hers with his, before pulling away and sucking gently on his bottom lip. "Hmmm. I think I'd love to touch you. . ." She paused and pressed her lips to his ear. "Everywhere."

Michael's jaw clenched when her words tickled at his ear and made him helpless to her touch. His heart began to speed up in his chest, thumping hard and pumping his blood so quickly he could hear it pounding through his ears. "You realise, this is purely medicinal," he smirked, holding one of her hands to his bare indigo stained chest where she had began to open his shirt. "Because..." his eyes trailed down between their bodies, watching his other hand move hers to palm his hardness and pin it against his crotch. "...I ache...all...over," he panted, rising to meet her gaze again.

Sara met his eyes, and smiled softly, nodding her head. She moved her hand back up his chest, beginning to kneed slowly circles over the dark blue lines. She leaned up, standing to where her lips were only a breath away from his. "Purely medicinal. Strictly doctor/patient. I've got it."

Michael smiled back at her sweetly and tugged at her hand when he began to move back towards the lounge. "Good," he sounded happier than he did when he walked into the apartment but his body was still as heavy. "I'll just sit here," Michael fell backwards onto the inviting plumpness of the couch again and felt the sudden heaviness overtake his bones. "You can...you know..." his lips curled into a grin and he looked up and down his body. "...enjoy yourself," he smiled, rolling his head back and letting it lay against the back of the couch cushions with a sigh.

Sara smirked, straddling his waist and moving her hands slowly down the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons that were still left done. The shirt fell open and she smirked, attempting to tug it open. She turned on her doctor voice, and made the most serious face she was capable of pulling at that moment. "Oh, Mr. Scofield. I wouldn't dream of enjoying myself. I just want to make sure you feel better."

Michael's body went limp and felt as though it had moulded to the couch. A rush of cool air met his skin when his shirt fell open and Sara tugged the offending navy cotton from his pants. He smiled a toothy grin and he kept his eyes closed. "I feel so tired," he played the whining patient. "and my muscles ache," he told her smoothly.

Sara watched as his eyes fell shut and broke out into a smile when he couldn't see her. Clearing her throat, she sobered herself and tugged on his arms, pulling him up into a sitting position. She tugged his shirt off and motioned around. "Lay on your stomach."

Michael's head bobbed upright again and her grinned at her. Slapping her thighs with his large, splayed hands he lifted her from his lap and complied, rolling over onto his stomach and stretching out across the cushions. He pressed his face into the cushions, exhaling as he relaxed and laying one arm down beside him. The other lay next to his head and he smiled into the cushions, waiting for her hands to find his skin and untie his knotted his muscles. "Like this?" he asked coyly, keeping his eyes closed so her reaction to his feigned dumbness didn't make him laugh and ruin their game.

"Exactly like that. You learn fast." Sara smiled softly as she positioned herself on the small of his back, resting a knee on each side of his hip. She hiked up the skirt of her dress and got comfortable. Pressing her hands into his sides, she began to slowly massage circles. "Any specific problem areas, Mr. Scofield?"

Michael felt a breath leave him when Sara put her hands on his skin. He nodded into the cushion and moved his arm to grip her wrist. "My wife..." he began lifting her hand to the small of his back and releasing it slowly. "...likes being carrying to our bedroom before we make love," he smirked. "And i get this terrible pain right here."

Sara giggled softly before she could stop herself. Pressing her fingers into the small of his back, she smirked, and glanced down at him. "Wow. Your wife must be very heavy." She continued her soft movements. "Do you make love a lot?"

Michael's body shook when he laughed. "Oh no, she's not heavy," he corrected with a twitch of his eyebrows. "Insatiable, yes. Heavy, no," he shook his head and let out a pained moan when Sara pressed into his spine and the muscles spasmed beneath her fingertips. "We make love...enough," he grinned.

Sara danced her fingers slowly up his spine, using her skilled hands to work out all his knots. She leaned over slightly, letting her long hair brush against his back. "Enough, hmm? No such thing."

"That's what my wife says," Michael smiled, rearranging his arms so that they were crossed under his head and his chin rested to the schematics of his skin. "She's a wonderful woman," Michael breathed, letting out another rejoicing moan when Sara kneaded out the tenseness in his shoulder. "She’s smart, funny, very professional..." he paused his body twitching and lurching sideways when Sara found a painful spot. "...hot as hell," he growled, trying to chase away the pain burning through his back.

"I'm sorry," Sara murmured when he squirmed away from her touch. She lowered her head, unable to resist touching her lips to the spot where she had hurt him. "Oops. Was that inappropriate?" She leaned back up. "Tell me some more about this wife of yours. She sounds amazing."

"Oh she is," he breathed. "She's a doctor you know, very good at what she does. When she does something, she does it well," Michael smiled, letting out a groan when Sara began to pull his skin up roughly, setting the underlying muscles alive and rocking his body.

Sara laughed again, smoothing her hands out over his back. She stopped her massaging, tracing the lines over the lines of his tattoo. She was enjoying this game. "How about you tell me what exactly she's good at?"

"You like my tattoos, Dr. Scofield?" he enquired lightly, shifting the conversation to her. "You seem to be very, very intrigued by them." Michael smirked when he felt Sara's hands still on his skin. "How about you? Anyone special in your life?" he groaned into the cushions, his body still achey but in a good way.

"I do like them. They're very intriguing," Sara murmured. She balanced herself on her knees, lifting her weight off of him and motioning for him to roll onto his back. When he did, she settled herself back down on top of him. "Well, I do have a husband. He forgot about Valentine's Day, can you believe that?"

"Noooooooooo," Michael sounded sympathetic and shuffled himself into a more comfortable position. "That's terrible," he squeaked. "What was his excuse?"

"Well, he works hard," Sara said softly, dropping her gaze. "He had to start all over with work, and I think sometimes he hates it. But I know he does it to take care of me." She ran her hands slowly down his chest, dropping her voice softer. "But I don't need him to remember Valentine's Day. He makes me feel special, and beautiful and like the most loved woman in the world every night."

"Well, he sounds like an ass," Michael screwed his face up when she turned all romantic and moved his arms to interlock his fingers under the back of his head. "But if you love him..." he trailed off, offering her a soft smile.

"More than I've ever loved anything," Sara met his eyes and returned his smile, surprised when the sting of tears pricked her eyes. She dropped her gaze again, feeling embarrassed. "Plus, he has an amazing body."

A grin graced Michael's face and he took a large breath. "Really?" he whispered, letting his eyes roam over Sara's bare, exposed legs sitting astride his waist. "My wife's body is..." he paused, letting his eyes fall closed and his grin to widen. "...delicious."

Sara smirked, leaning over and resting her head against the back cushions of the couch. "Well, I can see why you married her." Her eyes fluttered shut and she laughed quietly. "He has the best hands. These long fingers, a smooth touch."

Michael grinned at her, tilting his head and scratching his head with his curled fingers. "You married him for his hands?" Michael frowned. "They must be very good..." he smiled. "...what does he do at work?"

"He uses his hands at work, too," Sara kept her tone matter-of-fact. She shifted on his waist, wiggling to make herself more comfortable. "He's an engineer, a structural engineer to be exact. You know the type? Measure twice, cut once. Although with Michael it's always been more like measure ten times, cut once very slowly. . ."

"So you're saying he is...passionate," Michael found the word and let it slide from his tongue. His eyes fell to Sara's hands resting at his waist. "You know..." he averted his gaze and his tongue moistened his lips. "...I have one more muscle that is kinda tense," he looked back up to her slowly, almost shyly.

Sara smiled again at the expression on his face. This was turning out to be the best Valentine's she'd ever experienced. "Oh, do you? Why don't you point it out to me and we'll see if I can take care of it."

"Okay," Michael said kindly, twisting his hands from behind his head. He undid his belt with well practised precision and unbuttoned his pants, letting the fly slide open when he pulled the two sides apart. A smirk crept across his lips as he took Sara's hand in his and gently moved it to his bulging boxers. "It's right..." he stammered, moving Sara's hand around his erection until he felt a tingle in his gut. "...here," he gulped.

Sara smiled, curling her fingers gently around the length of him. She stroked slowly, watching the expression on his face. She loved how his eyes closed just slightly. "Is this helping?"

Michel nodded slowly and bit his bottom lip. His eyelids grew heavy but he could still make out Sara’s figure straddling him through his thin slits of eyes. “You…are…good,” Michael panted, sighing the last word and gently thrusting his hips up into Sara’s hand.

Sara smiled, increasing her strokes as he thrust into her. "Why thank you, baby, you're not so bad yourself." She leaned down, pressing her lips to his neck. "You know, you never got your present."

"What was it?" Michael chocked out gruffly, sliding his hand up Sara's body and tracing shape over her back. "Is it worth sacrificing my massage for?" he laughed.

Sara joined in his laughter, shaking her head. "Probably not. It was just going to be me in barely-there lingerie, giving you your every wish and desire."

Michael's hand found the zip at the side of Sara's dress and he pulled it down slowly. Sara's dress went slack around her body and Michael dragged his gaze across her heaving breasts. "Can we not do that here?" Michael smirked, tugging on Sara's dress and encouraging her to shuck it off.

Sara stood up and wiggled out of her dress, before turning her attention back to Michael. "Well, I guess I wasted all that money on that skimpy little number for nothing." She moved to her knees, slowly tugging Michael's pants off. "Away these go."

"Wait..." Michael called softly, watching his pants fall off the end of his feet and Sara's gaze snap up to meet his. "Skimpy you say?" he grinned. "Why don't you go and uh...slip into it for me..."

Sara smiled, standing back up. "Whatever you say. . . Mr. Scofield." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before practically skipping down the hallway towards their bedroom. Once inside, she moved over to the bed, removing the barely-there black lace negligee from it's box. She slipped her undergarments off, and slid the lingerie on, studying herself in the mirror. Before Michael, she had never thought of her body as anything special, or all that great. He sure seemed to think so though.

"You wasn't kidding," Michael said with a puff of breath. He was leaning against their bedroom doorframe in just his boxers, letting his lustful eyes wash over Sara's body as she studied herself in the mirror. "You look very sexy," he said, his voice shaking with the words as he tried to maintain decorum in his underwear.

Sara turned, a smile lighting up her face when he caught her looking at herself. "Well, as long as you think so. That's all that matters." She walked slowly over to him, cupping the bulge in his boxers. "Hmm. Someone's happy to see me."

"Somebody is feeling a little left out since you left him alone back there," Michael whipped his head over his shoulder and indicated he was talking about the couch. "He asks if he can have you attend to his every desire too," Michael grinned, quirked and eyebrow and leaned forward to capture Sara's lips in a kiss. "Where do you want me?" he breathed against her mouth as he backed her towards the bed.

Sara smiled against his mouth, turning and pushing him down on the bed. "You just lay right there, baby, and let me take care of you. Alright?"

Michael hit the mattress with bounce, scooting over the covers and resting his head on the pillow. "Alright," he sounded excited and his lips twitched as he tried not to smile. “Be gentle,” he winked.

"Always," Sara murmured, pressing her lips to his chest. She pulled on his boxers, tossing them across the room. Leaning down she placed a kiss on his stomach, and then one on the inside of each of his thighs. Settling herself between his legs, she smiled up at him. "I love you. A lot."

Michael's stomach flipped and he blew a breath of hot air out onto his own face. When Sara said she loved him, something she did every time they were together, he smiled and lifted his head to look down at her. "I love you more," he growled and let his head fall back down against the pillows with a frustrated erotic laugh.

Sara shook her head, tilting her head down and darting out her tongue running it across the length of him. "I love you more." She pursed her lips and blew on the wet trail she had just left before darting her tongue out across the tip of him.

Michael gritted his teeth and sucked in a lungful of air with a hiss. "God..." he breathed, snatching another glance of himself in her delicate hands before slamming his head into the pillows once more. "...I love Wednesdays," he laughed.


End file.
